Page 58 of Mutant Mine

To live by my side would mean living as an outlaw. I do not know how my brothers have survived for the past five years, or what kind of existence they have scratched out for themselves — but they must be on the run, always looking over their shoulders.

I can survive that. I will be thankful just to have my freedom, and to be among my own kind. Even if they have made their home on some hostile moon or cold, abandoned space station, it would be a better future than we once dared to dream of. But Rory…

She is young, and brave, and very intelligent. All the promise of the galaxy is at her feet. She would have to give up so much to be with me.

If I love her…The word does not shock me when it appears in my mind. I have known it, even without shapingits syllables.If I love her, then I must let her go.

That thought makes me recoil.

No,I think fiercely.Rory deserves to be given the choice, does she not? Her life is her own, to spend as she wishes.

But how can I offer her a choice before I know what the choicesare? What can I promise? What is it safe to tell her?

I must set these questions aside for now, although they feel urgent. Take life one day at a time; an overused adage, but wise nonetheless. Imprisonment taught me that.

I have no control over tomorrow. There is still so much left unanswered, and so much that could happen between now and then. Tomorrow is another planet.

Today, Rory is in my bed.

* * *

WHEN I COMEback into the bedroom, Rory is sat on the couch, reading. She looks up and smiles as I enter.

“Hey,” she says, setting down the tablet. She sounds almost shy. But she is wearing nothing except her t-shirt and shorts.

I walk over and lift her into my arms.

“Woah, okay,” she says. Her hands clutch at my neck. “I missed you too — what’s…”

Her words are cut off as I lay her down on the bed and kiss her.

It only takes a moment to pull her clothes away. The tension in my body sighs and releases, to have her naked under me again.

Cradling her head in one hand, I run my other hand down over Rory’s hips. My thumb draws soothing circles on the inside of her knee. She is still so new to all this, and lets her thighs fall open hesitantly.

I want to taste her neck, her breasts — but I do not wantto stop kissing her. She moans into my mouth when I lightly stroke between her legs.

I trace the small, tight circles that made her huff and whimper yesterday. Rory rewards me with a helpless sound now. Her fingers dig into the shirt over my ribs.

My fingers move down, finding her cunt. She is soft and slippery. Wet for me. Wanting me. This time, it is I who must groan against gritted teeth.

I stroke her small hole with the tip of my finger, making my intentions clear. Giving her time to say no. She swore to me that if she did not want it, she would say so.

“Can I?” I ask her, against her lips.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Roth… please.”

Slowly, deliberately, I press one finger inside. Rory clings to me and gasps as I stretch her open, bit by bit.

My eyes drift closed. The tight, hot squeeze of her around me is better than anything I remember.

I stroke in and out, feeling Rory gradually loosen up around me as her body gets used to the intrusion. When she is ready, I curl my finger inside her then rub, gently and persistently. I know that I have found the sensitive spot by the sound Rory makes, and the way her hips buck against my hand.

She is so perfect like this: her face flushed, her mouth parted. Between her legs, she is as delicate as wet silk. One set of damp pink lips reminds me of the other. I wish to fill up her mouth and her cunt; give them both something to suck on, until she can only moan.

No.

Too much. None of that. You will terrify her.

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